Warnings: Language, adult situations, possible violence, allusions to mature subject matter (ie. Various forms of assault/torture/etc.)

Summary: What do you get when you mix embittered!depressed!enraged!Loki (doing time on Midgard) and Christmas together? Tony Stark wants to find out, especially when he begins to realize that the God of Mischief needs a little bit of Christmas cheer. Of course, Thor is in. Who else comes along for the ride? Will you?

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome (especially this is my first time writing for Avengers fandom)!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

Hi all. Good news... This fic will be done.

Bad news. Not any time soon.

I'M SO SORRY! SO SO SORRY! But Lent came upon me quicker than I had thought possible - I should've double-checked, but now it's here and I had made a self-promise to give up fanficcing for Lent. So. Um. On my B-Day, March 30, I will update the story. Or maybe the day after... but anyways. That being said.

Sorry. I'm leaving it on a cliffie. Again. .

But if you have read my author's notes or chatted with me on messaging, you know that this story ends well sort of and that Loki will survive. Etc. Etc.

So, I am so glad to have met you guys. The Avenger's fandom is awesome. Thanks so much to those readers who have put up with me as I blunder through this new fandom (for me) and I hope that my next fanfic, when I do get around to writing it, will be even better than this one. And less of a WANGST fic and more of a BAMF fic.

I'll see you all on my b-day, March 30. I promise. This torch will not die. Nor will the flames of my Loki feels die out.

Christmas Magic

Chapter 36
Nothing Right

"Silent night
Holy night
Silent night
Nothing feels right"

("That Was The Worst Christmas Ever! - sung by Sufjan Stevens)

You are not the only one surprised... If you had asked me a year ago this time if I could imagine myself to be here, in your presence, as a – well, as neutral acquaintance –

A friend, one day.

Well, I guess it just tells you that in the end, there's always hope for us. We can change – but it depends on us, in the end. What do we choose to be?

Choice. That is not a luxury I have enjoyed in a long... long, long, long time.

...if you believe the Norns, there is only doom to face and the matter of having the courage to pass through it...

But I can't believe that... Not fully anyways. You have a choice – for yourself. About yourself. Maybe you can't change everything. Maybe things get out of control. It's how you respond that matters. How you respond is what defines you – it shows you for who you really are.

-0-0-0-

All large bridges in Midgard appeared to have two roads – one going and one coming – and on the really large bridges, there were the additional small roads on the side for those who journeyed by foot and those who rode smaller vehicles. Such as the ones with two wheels. This secondary small road was now bridged by the teetering vehicle – the mother upsetting the balance dangerously as she scrambled back in an attempt to get to her child. Children, Loki noticed dazedly as a second head popped up from the back seat and started to look around in shock. There are two of them. And the woman. By the Norns, my luck worsens by the minute.

Then, as if taunting the ex-God of Mischief, the Doom-bee smirked and said, "Now. You have a choice, Loki of Asgard. You can come with me – and have a chance to finish what you started. Or you can stay here. Be pathetic – and remaining the nothing you have become," the Doom-bee cackled. "What does Loki of Asgard say?"

And with the last blast, (really, it was all happening so fast, actions layering on actions), the minivan tipped over. Before Loki could explain. Before he could say something scathing like "You do not really understand what is going on, do you?" Before he could say something that would prolong the stalemate.

Suddenly there was nothing but a choice and before he could really compute, he had lunged forward and, hand grasping the door's handle, allowed himself to be pulled forward and down, while he yanked the thin metal door right off its hinges. From above, he could hear shouting – the humans no doubt upset about the destruction of the vehicle, or the family, or the bridge. Not him, he was certain. Or perhaps the metallic creature has turned on the law men.

Then all thoughts suddenly focused on rapid movement. Pulling the woman who had grabbed her older son and was trying to pull her babe out – the fabric straps snapped like twine as Loki yanked them apart and pulled back out the door with the babe in his arms, pulled the mother, pulled the son, pulled them all upward, letting the car hit the water before them.

The water hit them with a painful smack, with an overwhelming cold which stabbed through his clothes and body like so many knives. He wondered what the woman must feel and the child and the babe which lay in his arms – the water closed over his head for a moment – and he clawed his way to the surface. The older child was thrashing.

Unable to swim. Of course he can't swim, Loki thought disjointedly as he started to look for land, attempting to keep the baby above the freezing waves. That would be too simple, would it not?

Beside him, the mother was crying, attempting to battle panic and her tears, and not quite succeeding. He opened his mouth to tell her to shut her mouth, by all that is sacred, but a large wave of cold water hit him in the face and above him, he was aware of the circling, cackling metallic creature – which suddenly was smacked in the side by a heavy stream of laser coming from a familiar suit of red and gold.

Man of Iron. Stark. He came. Loki sighed with relief. Help will come. He eyed the woman who was finding it difficult to breath and the child was becoming too still for his liking. But not soon enough. His own body was finding it hard to move now and bit by bit, his fingers were turning an unfortunate colour of blue. Loki stiffened and gritted his teeth as his fingernails began to turn black and the woman behind him gasped and her voice rose in a sharp wail as Loki turned and met her eyes.

"You're – you're –"
"Sile –"
"Are – are – are you a-a-a-an alien? Are you going to –" The mother paused. "Please, please help us – I don't know what's going on – but we never – we never –"
"Silence, woman. Can you bear your children for a few minutes more?" Loki shifted over to her, hoping that his foreboding, monster-like features would silence the mortal into submission. "I can create a bridge to the land, upon which we may escape."
"S-s-sure. Please. Please. Quickly."

Shoving the too quiet bundle into her arms, Loki spread out his hands and prayed that the Norns had found some speck of mercy in their hearts that they would not torture him with the death of innocents today. Hands spread out over the water, Loki called on his heritage, called on the powers of his race, called on the heart of the Jotun which lay within him. He prayed that Odin's spell did not cover this – and when it responded – instinctively, naturally, Loki's tension eased out as the ice spread forward – toward the shore – and down, creating a thick shelf. It couldn't reach the shore quite yet, but it was enough for now. Enough to place the child, then the boy and finally the woman. Clambering onto the shelf, afterwards, he lay there for a moment, exhausted. Exhausted and frightened. How easy it came to me, he thought bitterly. And how natural it is, that even magic cannot suppress it.

He raised a hand and looked at it. Foreign. As if it was not his own hand. Loki resisted a sudden irrational urge to cut it off.

Thor's young voice, as a child, filtered back to him. A promise. An Asgardian constant.

...I will kill every last one of them, just like you Father...

Sitting on the shelf of ice he had so quickly created, underneath a battle in the sky and a renewed battle on the bridge, Loki contemplated the lines which swirled up – up into the cuffs of his jacket now heavy with water. What they were, what they looked like, he had no real knowledge. He never wanted to know. I never want to know. Never want to become... this...

Bruce's voice also returned.

Like, you know, the, um, the Other Guy. That whole situation is just... it's crap, right. Something that I can't change – something I regret – something I'll regret until the day I die or whatever. But, what's important is what the me of the now, the present – what that me decides to do with my life. Am I going to take out my rage and self-hatred out on the people I love? Am I going to live up to the expectations of the bastards who are more than ready to stick me in a cage and drop me into the ocean somewhere – or worse, experiment on me? Or am I going to try to make peace with the world and myself and choose to help others around me and stop focusing on self-pity and hatred and fear?

Would that – could that be true of Loki as well?

Ha ha ha ha ha hahahaha... A cackle rose in his mind, not unlike the sound of the metallic creature. You think you can be accepted so easily?

No. Yes. I don't know.

Just realizing that they could see – the law men, the police, whoever, the heroes, the woman, the children – they could see now. They should never see. Heimdall had seen. Odin had seen. But how could they be allowed to see what Loki never wanted to see. What he never wanted to face again. And Thor would see.

You think that he will be able to accept?
Yes. This Thor would. This foolish, this kind yet so foolish Thor would. He always did. He always had before. He always would. Would he not?

That your brother will look on you and not flinch? That he will take you into his arms as he had before? That there will nothing between you – not even the curse that separates the Aesir and the Jotunn?

Yes. No. I don't know.

That he will not wither and burn as he cradles you?

Thor...

Loki opened his eyes and stared emptily across the black waters now sparkling with red from flaring lights and blue from others and white from lights which streamed down from the sky vehicles and other sorts of lights. He could not sit there. He would be a target now – unless his new found acquaintances would step in.

Will they step in?

Bruce would. Thor would.

Maybe. Maybe not.

At any rate, he had to get to the woman to land. The woman and her children. If they were saved, Loki knew that some kind of leniency could be expected. He would not be executed. And there was the spell to thank for that. Perhaps he would be released with a reprimand.

Not that you did anything wrong, Loki reminded himself, as he made his way to the farther end of the block and placed his hands down to begin forming new ice toward the shore. Other than show your true colours.

And why should they show leniency, his dark side whispered, when Loki of Asgard showed no such mercy toward his own kind and continues to show no such mercy to himself?

Despair. He worked through it and around it, his ice moving slowly across the waters and then, finding land, proceeding to thicken until he could finally turn and nod at the woman. For a moment, Loki wondered if he had lost his voice. Opening his mouth and working it for a few seconds, he found it.

"We can cross to safety. Now."

The woman nodded. Loki approached slowly. As if she were a wounded deer and, eyes never leaving her face, he picked up the older child, allowing her to take the babe into her arms. Carefully, slowly, slipping and sliding more often then not, the two made their way across, not collapsing until they finally found firm footing on land. Above them, more vehicles were arriving and judging by the sudden shift in the atmosphere and an increase of lightning, Thor was arriving. Or had arrived. Loki, hunting around the shore, tried to find something. Anything in which to wrap the children.

Paper. Paper would help a little. But not enough. The boy in particular, and the mother herself were too still for his liking. Breathing, yes. And he found himself, looking back, to make sure the mother had not fallen asleep. She needs to stay awake.

"Rub their chests and arms," he said. "Unbundle the wet clothes. Here, I will wring them out and we'll wrap them up in paper and, a moment –" Loki scurried up the hill at the sight of something grey and flapping. He returned with a scrap of stiff brown canvas. "This, we will wrap around the child. The babe, you must clasp to your chest, where it is warmest. Do you understand?"

"Yes – yes – OK. Right," the mother scurried to obey his orders.

Quiet for a moment. More crashing and shouting and shooting and other explosive noises happening. Debris rained down. A snapping sound. Loki ignored it, focusing instead on fumbling hands and the too pale skin of the young boy child.

"What is your name, mortal?" Loki asked, recognizing the exhaustion and shock creeping into the woman's thin frame for what it was – a dangerous sign of the winter sleep.
"Vicky. Victoria. Victoria Hanson." Pause. "You?"
"I?" Loki deftly stripped the boy of his shirt and pants, wrung them out then replaced them carefully. "Loki."
"Loki... You have a last name, Loki?" asked the woman, who was also wringing out her babe's swaddling cloth as well as her blue-white hands could. Loki leaned over, took them wordlessly and wrung them out even more.
"It is just Loki," he replied brusquely. Winced. "Just Loki," he said softly.
"Well, 'just Loki'," she said. "My family and I are going to owe you a huge thanks when this is over."
"If you survive," Loki pointed out gruffly, uncertain of what to do with her apparent gratitude.

Is she blind? Or perhaps she is so far gone she cannot possibly care from what quarter comes salvation... Loki eyed the woman as she wrapped the babe up again and then, taking off her coat, attempted to wring out the hard wool. He helped her again.

"Is it a girl? Or a boy?" Loki asked, breaking the ensuing silence awkwardly.
"A girl. We called her Kay. That's Jeremy." She smiled sadly. "We – we were driving in to New York to see Papa. He moved ahead of us. A new job, you see," Now the words streamed out, her voice shaky as realization began to set in. "But with the weather the way it has been lately, well, we weren't sure – and I was so set on it. For Jeremy, you know. He misses his dad." A pause. "All boys miss their dads, you know?"

Loki thought of Odin. Odin after the Pit, regretful and silent. Odin after his return in chains, stern and hard. Odin on the newly broken Bifrost, quiet and disappointed. He hated himself – had hated himself. He had let go – but he had, at that moment, craved his father's approval. Craved his father's presence. And now. Now, that has died. Now I am free. But what is freedom when there is no one to share it with you. Freedom is nothing but a void, if you are free alone. But at what cost to you pay for sanity and acceptance? Is it worth it? And yet, and yet, in the end, blood calls to blood. Family call to family. Ties not so easily broken, which are forged in time, if not in blood. One day, if there is forgiveness on all sides, could there be peace? Loki wondered. His hands were starting to shake.

"So," the woman's voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you – well, you're blue. So. Um. Blue skin, red eyes, the lines and stuff. Are you, uh, well. Um. Alien?"
"Alien?" Loki eyed the woman, raising a dark eyebrow, wrapping the young boy up and moving him closer to his mother.
"From outer space."
"I come from Asgard," Loki finally said. "Another realm."
"Above the sky? Beyond earth?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Outer space, then."

Loki decided to let the woman think whatever she pleased. He shrugged. His hands were shaking now, as the stress began to mount within him. As the memories began to rise. The snow piled around his thighs and knees and feet increased the chill. Above him, the metallic creatures multiplied – and were beaten down, raining debris onto the open shore and dark water. The woman and child were safely ensconced underneath the bridge – but if the bridge were to give way, Loki shuddered. Best stay with them, he sighed to himself.

A metallic creature was heading his way, Loki rose, allowing ice to form along his forearms, creating the ice daggers which so naturally came to his people. How he would use them, he wasn't entirely certain, but fighting with knives had always been his speciality, so Loki was certain he could improvise. And it would have to be in defence as well.

Loki cursed Odin. Cursed the elves. Cursed the immutable spell and its limitations. Raised his hands and risked casting a glance back at the mortals now in his care. The mother – Victoria – was now pulled up against the concrete wall, huddling with her two children, eyes wide with terror as it focused on him –

Words of reassurance rose to his lips but before he could get out a "Do not fear I have no reason to harm you" – the woman screamed uncontrollably, eyes wide, face even paler than before (and that was a feat).

"Loki! LOKILOOKOUT!"

Loki's eyes jerked forward, just in time to follow the arc of the metallic creature now flying uncontrollably past him to end up flattened and partially embedded in the concrete pillar to above the mother. Red eyes wide, Loki shifted, suddenly, uncomfortably aware that something was NOT right.

"LOKIBEHINDYOU! IT'SAMONSTER!"

He turned.

A large green hand swallowing up the night.

Loki turned and froze.

A familiar hulk of muscles – green and foreboding.

He froze.

It was the face of nightmares.

Again. Sorry for the shortness. I had to write this in a space of 45 minutes, because I have some things to do tonight - that are mucho important - and on top of that, I shouldn't really be posting this - but I need to, just to let you know that things are going on hiatus for Lent.

If you do like my writing and want to see what other stuff I've written, I will be posting original fic. On Fictionpress. Under kakashidiot or Scarecrow's Lady.

See you around, lovelies. I will miss you.
KI